


Scent

by SunflowerSupreme



Series: Witcher (Books) [20]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Bathtubs, M/M, i don’t know what it is to be honest, its almost territorial but it’s not, its dirty and it’s the reason i’m going to hell, its porn but its also not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:00:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25437337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerSupreme/pseuds/SunflowerSupreme
Summary: Geralt has a very sensitive nose and he doesn’t like having strange smells around.Obligatory bathtub fic, but in reverse.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Witcher (Books) [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1624276
Comments: 11
Kudos: 213





	Scent

Geralt hates when he smelled like other people.

It isn’t that he minds Dandelion sleeping around - they both sleep with who they please when they please - it was the unfamiliar smell itself that bothers him.

At first he would simply turn his nose up and sit as far from Dandelion as he could, but as they’d gotten to know one another better he’d grown more vocal about his opinions. Dandelion had taken to bathing after his encounters, but when Geralt had still complained that he hadn’t done it correctly, the bard had challenged him to do it himself.

So it had become routine. When Dandelion finished with his dalliance Geralt would drag him off to the nearest tub and scrub him down until he no longer smelled like anything but himself.

Geralt wastes no time once Dandelion is in the tub, attacking his shoulders with a coarse bristled brush. The bard whined as he scraped over a hickey on his neck, and Geralt moved on, rubbing his thumb one last time over the mark, almost apologetic.

“Man or woman?” he murmurs.

“You tell me.” Dandelion smirks, almost lazily, glancing over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow.

Geralt frowns, inhales deeply through his nose, and growls, “Both.”

His smirk widens, even as the Witcher grumbles about him being a whore. Then he’s pulled from the water - his squeal of _‘hey!’_ ignored - and leaned over the side of the tub. With his lower body still in the water, his hands struggle to find a grip on the smooth floor as Geralt scrubs the brush down his back. 

Then his knees are pushed apart, and although he’s used to it - there’s a reason Geralt questioned if he’d been with a man, he may as well have asked _‘did anyone put their cock inside you?’_ \- and a thumb strokes over his hole, still loose from his previous lover.

Geralt grumbles something - alright, perhaps Dandelion is still leaking semen, but that’s not his fault - the Witcher is clearly disgusted, and Dandelion’s not having it. “It’s my _ass_.”

A hand collides with his ass, no where near Geralt’s full strength, but enough to make him whimper.

“Truly Geralt, it’s not meant to be sanitary,” he jokes. He’s more than happy to keep talking, knowing what’s coming next in Geralt’s cleaning routine. It’s certainly not his favorite part, though he tolerates it for his friend’s sake.

The Witcher snorts. “Perhaps I should put the soap in your mouth, bard.”

“You wouldn’t-” his cuts off in a soft gasp and a shiver runs down his spine. Geralt had wrapped his finger in a cloth, then pressed it inside Dandelion’s ass. It’s strange and uncomfortable, but not unfamiliar, and the bard takes quick breaths to steady himself as Geralt’s finger swirled inside him.

The Witcher’s free hand strokes his side, then grips his hip when his fingers move the wrong way and Dandelion tries to jerk away. “Loosen up,” said Geralt.

“I’m trying!”

Geralt’s finger slips out and he lets out a sigh of relief, but then he’s pulled back into the tub, his lower half once again submerged, and Geralt’s finger - thankfully sans cloth - slips back inside him.

It’s clinical, and that’s a lot coming from a man who make nearly anything sexual.

Dandelion struggles to relax his shoulders, hands gripping the sides of the tub as Geralt’s finger swirls inside him, a second entering and pressing him open, then both sliding free.

Geralt buries his nose in Dandelion’s neck, inhaling sharply. “You smell better,” he mumbles.

Dandelion grunts, leaning his head against Geralt’s, and for a moment they sit in silence. Then Geralt stands, helping Dandelion from the tub and wrapping him in a towel.

The bards legs are shaky and he clings to Geralt, demanding the Witcher help him to limp across the room and into bed. With a snort, Geralt obliges.

**Author's Note:**

> -vague shrug- No one stopped me.


End file.
